


Follow the flowers

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kissing, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:41:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin decides a romantic evening is the best Yule gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow the flowers

The sitting room was darkened as you struggled through the door with your laden market basket. In the dim light of the one glowing lantern in the kitchen, you set the basket on the table with a relieved sigh and listened to the quiet house, walking back through the sitting room to peek down the hallway that led to your bedroom.

“Dwalin?” you called uncertainly, but only silence answered you.

It was only when you returned to the kitchen that you noticed the scrap of parchment on the table, nearly covered by your basket, on which you read three words, written in your husband’s rushed, scrawling hand.

_Follow the flowers._

“Follow the flowers?” you muttered, frowning.

A quick survey of the house revealed no flowers to be seen, but when at last it occurred to you to look outside, you were rewarded with the sight of a small, white flower beside the doormat. A short distance beyond lay one of its fellows, and you could just glimpse a few more placed at regular intervals down the corridor. With a curious smile, you locked the door, picked up the first flower, and set out to follow the trail.

The blooms led you on a winding journey through unfamiliar passageways, and by the time you’d gathered a proper bouquet, you found yourself at the end of a long, narrow tunnel, from which you emerged into a steam-clouded grotto, its floor scattered with white petals and its granite walls sparkling in the light of dozens of candles. The central feature of the cavern was a pool, fed by tiny waterfalls that trickled down over the stone, and there Dwalin awaited, submerged to his chest in the rippling water with arms outstretched and a flower’s stem clutched in his teeth.

A grin spread slowly over your face. “What are you doing?”

“I'n gi-ing…" He quickly removed the flower with a grimace and resumed his pose. “I’m giving the loveliest lady in Erebor the gift of a romantic evening.“

“You did all this for me?” you asked, touched by this unexpectedly sentimental gesture.

“Aye,” he answered, lowering his arms and looking a bit sheepish as he fidgeted with the blossom’s petals. “The truth of it is, I spent hours in the shops, looking for the perfect gift for you for Yuleblot…but a fellow can only look at so many ribbons and thimbles and hairpins before they all look alike, and you know I’m no good with ladies’ fripperies, anyway.”

A fond chuckle escaped your lips. “I know.”

“And then I thought about these long days of late, and you lying in a cold bed while I’m lending the lads a hand in the forges, and I thought we might have a night to ourselves…and Thorin lent me the use of this place, and here we are…” He trailed off, looking up hopefully to you, his eyes imploring you to be happy with his offering.

With a smile, you knelt at the pool’s edge, and he moved close to let you bury your hand in his beard, stroke his cheek. “There’s nothing in the world I could want more than an evening with my azyungâl all to myself.”

His face relaxed into a beaming smile, and your hand moved to the back of his neck, drawing him closer still to press a kiss to his lips. Strong arms suddenly enveloped you, and with a splash, you were immersed in the warm water, clothes and all, while your husband wore a mischievous smirk.

“Dwalin!” you scolded laughingly. “This is one of my favorite dresses!”

“I’ll buy you another,” he grinned, claiming more kisses as his fingers worked to loosen the gown’s wet laces.

Your dress landed with a soggy thud on the stone floor beside the pool, quickly joined by your underclothes, and you drifted more snugly into Dwalin’s arms, a pleasant tingle running down your spine at the warm slickness of his skin against yours in the water.

“What is this place? I’ve never seen it before,” you wondered, glancing around the cavern as you draped your arms around his neck.

“Only the King’s personal hot spring,” Dwalin answered proudly. His gaze followed yours to the craggy ceiling, damp with steam. “Nothing but the finest for my love.”

His large hands beneath your backside lifted you weightlessly, and you wound your legs around his waist while he buried his face in your neck, his fingers tangling in your damp hair, his mouth drawing a line of heated kisses downward from your jaw. He sighed, and his warm breath raised gooseflesh on your wet skin.

“Oh, but I do love to see you like this,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips as they gently grazed yours.

“So I’ve noticed,” you said cheekily, with a downward glance at the evidence of his desire, firm and proud against your thigh.

“Aye, lass,” he grinned, “you’ve gone and lit my Yule log.”

Your head dropped to his shoulder as your laughter echoed in the grotto, and his body rumbled with his deep chuckle.

“You are a rascal, Mister Dwalin,” you teased, tenderly pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Aye, but I’m _your_ rascal.”

“That you are, and I love you to distraction, and always will,” you vowed, and he hugged you close, his voice low and gravelly in your ear.

“As I love you, ghivâshel.”

Your lips returned to his with a slowly building urgency, and you purred, between kisses, “now let’s make a proper fire with that Yule log of yours.”


End file.
